Our stories are made of perfect sentences. The ones that come to us as though from the beyond and penetrate straight to the heart of the matter. They speak life into withered hearts and rekindle meanings we never knew we had lost.

Our stories are made from ink splattered against the stone. It sloshes and spills as we scurry about. It stains our fingers and leaves traces of all the things we are drowning to reveal.

Our stories are made from tattered shreds of crumpled up paper piles. Tossed in the corner, tossed over our heads. Papers that were filled with nothings and no ones, who we dare not share with the world lest they truly know us.

Our stories are made from erasures that allowed us to fill in the grayed out spaces. Penned in stitches of what we think we really meant that aims to replace the words we wish we’d never first used. Blanks now repurposed, charged with change and new meaning to set us straight once again.

Our stories are made from lines and open spaces. Some meant to lead us down a guided path when all the world could not. Others there to let us roam freely and explore so we can learn the depths of ourselves and everything else. Lined or released depending on the day to allow us the freedom or assurance that best suits our fretfully fleeting feet.

Our stories are made from mediums that represent the depths and marks of our lives. They blend together – not always seamless, they fight for space – or topple upon one another, but if we get it right…

our stories are made from this and from that to become the novels we hope to represent. Our stories are made and sadly sometimes they eNd.

…if we are lucky. Our stories have tinged one another and fade ever so beautifully into the next. A touch here, a word there, a sentence or two or possibly ten. If we are lucky, our stories continue beyond the pages we visibly grace into the next and the next. Our stories are more than any number could amass and they litter the earth all around. Our stories are here and there and everywhere, each day, in limitless ways.

I hope your story is lucky enough to light the chapters of others, especially after you’ve gone.